Stay The Night
by scared of clouds
Summary: The events of a single night can have very unexpected consequences. Two shot, Jily AU. Cover art by Viria.
1. The Night Before

**A/N: Smut. Unadulterated smut. I'm trying to stretch my writing muscles and write outside my comfort zone, so this is what you get apparently. ****Back out now if you require a plot in your fiction.**

**Based on this Tumblr post: **_**"Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had."**_

**So this is AU, in which Lily and James don't know each other very well from Hogwarts (and I haven't bothered to come up with a reason why) but they are both in the Order.  
**

**I don't own Harry Potter or any of the associated characters etc, etc, you know the drill. **

**_(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)_**

_…He was pressed up tight against her, holding her up against the wall as those long legs wrapped around his waist, her feet kicking her trousers the rest of the way off before her heels dug into his bare arse. His fingers were tugging at her knickers, a scanty swatch of lace that nonetheless was his greatest enemy right now; giving up on finesse, he wrapped his fist in the fabric and pulled until it tore and there was nothing stopping his hand from dipping in between them to stroke at her. He needed to feel her, to touch, to find the source of all that liquid heat, and when his fingers brushed that little bundle of nerves and she arched against the wall and pushed her still-clothed breasts into his chest, he felt like he was going to explode and he rushed to sheath himself in her with a sort of desperation he'd never felt before…_

There was a large crack in the plaster of his bedroom ceiling.

James was sure it had always been there, he just hadn't paid attention to it before. Then again, he'd never stared so intently at his bedroom ceiling before.

His hand was tangled in the duvet as it rested on his stomach, his other arm thrown above his head as his breathing slowed and the light sheen of sweat cooled on his body. He wasn't entirely sure how all that had just happened, but it had, and damned if he knew what he ought to do now. His emotions were a mess, a roiling pit in his stomach, and embarrassment fought elation and disbelief in an attempt to become the dominant reaction. He'd never been that…exposed, that_ bare, _with anyone before; in the figurative sense obviously.

If he just looked to his right, just plucked up the courage, he'd be able to see Lily stretched out alongside him in the bed, maintaining a careful distance between them, red hair spread across his pillow and a flush on her pale, perfect skin. If he closed his eyes his mind could conjure up the image of her, pupils dilated and dark as he pressed her hard against the wall, her legs lifting to wrap around his waist as he ripped her lacy knickers with one hand and littered her neck with hard, bruising kisses while his questing fingers found their destination and made her gasp and quake against him with smooth, teasing strokes.

So what if they hadn't actually made it to the bed the first time; she didn't seem to care that he'd had her against the hallway wall, and it hadn't mattered to him, not even the tiniest little bit, because his hands and mouth had been on her skin, and her hands had been wound in his hair and he'd felt her tremble around him and fall apart in his arms, and he'd never felt anything so extraordinary in his life. They'd managed to actually get into his bedroom for the second round – and he was _never _going to be able to look at his chest of drawers the same way now, without seeing her draped across it, her hands gripping the sides as _his _hands held her hips in place – and finally collapsed onto the bed for the third and fourth times. If he had even an ounce of energy left, they'd probably be going for a fifth innings right now, because if there was something he was sure of it was that he wanted to do all that again; wanted to make her back arch and her body rise up off the bed as she moved her hips more frantically to meet his, and he wanted to do it a million more times in his lifetime.

He'd just spent several hours crawling over every inch of her body, had heard her say his name in a dozen different ways; she'd sighed it, giggled it, moaned it, and - his personal favourite - cried it desperately, interspersed with a few dozen "please's". He knew how every inch of her smelled, tasted, felt, and how was he ever supposed to look at her through those old eyes again now he knew? And the thought of everything they'd just done, combined with the thought of saying or doing the wrong thing and ensuring that he'd never get to do it again, had him paralysed in bed next to her, his heart rate calming and his body slowly unwinding.

He wanted to touch her; not even sexually, just…he wanted to just rest a hand on her skin, but he had no idea if she'd be okay with that, which was_ ridiculous_ given what they'd been doing these past few hours; he didn't really know her that well, though he thought he knew her a lot better now than he had a few hours earlier, and not just in the physical sense. But what he wanted more than anything else was for this new feeling of uncertainty to go away, for them to laugh again and for everything to be okay, because it wasn't until he'd stopped touching her that he'd realised that what they'd ended up doing together had become so much more than he'd expected when he was tearing her clothes off in his hallway.

He'd try and order his thoughts in the morning; for now, she was here in his bed, and maybe tomorrow he'd be able to think of a way to convince her that she should come to it again. And again. And maybe a few thousand times after that.

_…Now her hair was springing loose from its tie, wild tendrils of red around her face and hanging down her neck, and he reached up and tugged the tie the rest of the way out with one sharp pull so that it all fell loose as she bowed over him, and her neck drooped as if it was boneless, her forehead moving down to press against his as her hips rocked smoothly and their entwined hands kept her balanced above him; and it felt like there was a piece of string all twisted and coiled inside of him that was tied to her hips, her mouth, her hands, and everything would be fine as long as she kept moving like that, plucking at that string - as long as she stayed there, hovering over him, and she was so fucking perfect…_

* * *

_…She tripped over a discarded shoe as she moved backwards through his bedroom door, eyes locked on his, and his arms reached to steady her but he wasn't quick enough, and she crashed into his chest of drawers and braced herself there for a moment, legs unsteady as she giggled, before she glanced over her shoulder and saw his eyes darken, the hazel disappearing into black. He moved towards her, quick, predatory steps, and then she was pressed down onto the grainy surface of the offending piece of furniture, gripping the sides of it, the wood cool against her breasts and belly in sharp contrast to the wandering heat of his hands as they trailed patterns over her back, as his tongue traced the outline of her spine and then his hands moved to pin her hips down, all his hot skin pressing against her back and the back of her thighs…_

Lily couldn't tear her eyes away from the ceiling, didn't dare flick them to one side to look at him. Her hands held the duvet up over her breasts, though why she was bothering to cover them was a mystery, since he'd nipped, touched, _licked _every damn inch of them. His tongue had run up and down her bare back, his teeth had left marks on her inner thighs, he'd kissed his way up her legs, ankle to hip. He'd been over her, under her, behind her, and really there was no point in pretending modesty had anything to do with why she was gripping the sheets so tightly.

Merlin, what had she done? Well, she knew exactly what she'd_ done_; she'd wrapped her lips around him, her fingers had probably left bruises on his arse and thighs, her nails had left scratches down his back, her teeth had sunk into his neck, his shoulders. She'd let him put hands on every part of her, let him scatter marks across her skin, let him sink into her in a desperate fall that she'd been only too glad to rise up and meet with her own need. She'd sucked his Adam's apple, nipped his earlobe and run her hands over all of his weather-toughened skin. All of it. Oh God. On the one hand, it had been incredible, _amazing_; but on the other, she couldn't help the bubbling embarrassment that came from having been laid so bare in front of – _because of_ – someone she barely knew.

When she walked back into Order Headquarters tomorrow - because they were bloody well going in separately - all she was going to see when she looked at him was the flush on his face as he pushed into her for the first time, she was going to relive him tugging her bra down so he could close that unbelievably hot mouth over her nipple, she was going to remember what it was like to shout his name while his pelvis rocked frantically against hers.

When she'd gone to the pub after tonight's meeting – and a bloody depressing one it had been too – she'd intended to drown her sorrows on her own for a little while before going home and collapsing with a book. Her last mission had been tiring, and she'd felt the need for something to take the edge off the strain that was knotting up her shoulders. She _hadn't _expected James Potter to come wandering through the door, slide up on the bar stool next to her and order them both more drinks. Perhaps it had been strange, for two people who didn't exactly know each other well to drink together, especially in times like these, but he'd just come back from a mission too, and they'd sat together for a while, talking and laughing and letting all the tension go, until eventually – and she couldn't clearly recall now how they came to the decision – they'd decided to come back to his place and ended up unwinding in an entirely different, though extremely effective, way.

They'd barely made it through the door before they'd leapt at each other, sending clothes flying and digging fingernails into skin and pulling at hair. She couldn't recall now who'd moved first; perhaps they'd both surged towards each other at the same time, driven by…well, driven by who knew what, but the_ point_ was that they'd had ridiculous, intense, blow-the-damn-roof-off sex, and now here they were, lying next to each other with no idea what to say because they didn't _know _each other well enough to know what to say, and she couldn't speak for him, but she was frozen in place for fear of saying something wrong.

She wanted to curl up into him, just slide her body into the crook of his arm, but she had no idea if that would bother him, so here she was, lying alongside him but feeling a million miles away, knowing that they should talk about it but also being terrified of ruining it. She didn't want to let go of these moments. Not yet. And that was insane, because technically there was nothing to ruin; but it _felt _like there was something, and whatever he'd made her feel she wanted to hold onto it with both hands.

She'd just try and get some sleep; maybe they could talk in the morning, maybe some of the embarrassment and nervousness would have faded and they would be able to look at each other without that edge of alarm and panic creeping in. No matter what the outcome of the morning, no matter how much unease she felt churning low in her belly now she had the presence of mind to think clearly about the night's events, this had been wonderful and she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

_…She thinks that this might have become something entirely different now, because his weight is pushing her down into his mattress, and it's both thrilling and comforting to feel him pressed against the whole length of her body, and they're both moving with a calmness now that wasn't there before; slow, gentle thrusts that are soft and somehow sweet. His lips find hers, and __this__ kiss isn't bruising, it isn't hard and desperate, it's…loving. She can't think of a better word, though she's sure there must be one, because there's no way that particular one should apply to this, but the tenderness he shows her now is beyond anything she could have imagined. _

_And that's terrifying, because it's not like she was ever planning any of this, but if she __had __thought about it she would have said it wasn't possible to forge a connection like this over the space of a few hours, but they __had__. They'd touched each and every part of each other and neither of them had realised that was what they were doing until it was too late and they were entwined, wrapped up in each other, defying the world and the odds and pushing higher and further than either of them could ever have managed alone, in any sense. _

_And he was kissing her eyelashes and touching her soul, and she was pressing a hand against his beating heart and feeling every muscle in his body moving with hers. _

_And they were both in trouble, so, so much trouble._

**_(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)_**

**A/N: So...I could do with some feedback to be honest guys, since this isn't the kind of thing I usually write; all comments are welcome. You can also find me on Tumblr as scared-of-clouds, so come chat if you like.**


	2. The Morning After

**A/N: I know it was a one-shot, but...  
**

**It was originally going to be longer but I decided that I needed to make cuts to keep to the prompt and to keep the dreaminess of the tone. **

**Then lots of people said they'd like to read a second part. So I thought I may as well make use of what I'd cut and maybe make some people happy. **

**SMUT AHEAD. There's a reason for the rating.**

**_(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)_**

_…his hands in her hair, his mouth on hers, her fingers digging into the skin of his back as he backed her through the doorway into his flat…the way her breath had hitched when he'd lifted her up and pushed her against the wall…the sight of her spread out underneath him, a flush creeping across her body as he ran hands and mouth over all her heated skin…_

He really, really didn't want to wake up; the sunlight was creeping steadily into the room through half-drawn curtains, but he kept his face resolutely turned into his pillow, refusing to acknowledge the arrival of morning. On the one hand he sort of wanted to open his eyes, because it meant he would be able to see Lily lying next to him, but on the other he didn't really want to start this morning at all because it might mean letting go of last night and everything that had happened in it, and up until he'd woken up he'd been happily reliving it. Eventually he found his eyelids flickering no matter how much he tried to force them not to; giving in, he let them open, and the sight in front of them made his mouth turn up into an immediate smile, despite his worries.

Lily was still stretched out alongside him, as she had been last night, her hair fanning across the pillows. She'd rolled over in the night, just like he had, and their unconscious bodies had turned toward each other so he was now looking directly at her face. She looked different with those green eyes closed; more vulnerable, peaceful somehow. There was none of the fire and temper that characterised her waking personality.

He studied her face calmly; the curve of her cheekbones, the angle of her jaw, the slight furrow of her brow that suggested that she was troubled even in her dreams. Even without his glasses on he could see the very faint dusting of freckles on her nose - he'd kissed every one of them - and the slight curl of her eyelashes. He'd kissed those too.

He watched the calm rise and fall of her ribcage for a few minutes, spent time memorising the sight of her tangled up in his sheets, then he slipped carefully out of bed and out of the room, grabbing the first clothes he saw from the drawer on his way past. He moved quietly down the hall, careful not to stand on the creaky floorboard just outside the bedroom door, and was just about to step into the bathroom when his eyes caught a glimpse of blue lace on the floor. He bent down and picked up Lily's knickers, and was suddenly accosted with some very vivid memories of pressing her into this very wall, her teeth nipping his earlobe and her hands sunk into his hair while he pressed his fingers over every inch of this blue lace.

He moved slowly into the bathroom, slipping into his dark grey sweatpants and pulling a white t shirt on before splashing water on his face and taking a moment to look in the mirror. He was worrying about nothing he told his reflection. She wasn't going to just disappear like some bloody elf in a fairy story. She was real, she was here, and maybe, _maybe_, she'd stay once she woke up. Maybe she'd stay for breakfast, talk to him again like she had last night, with a glint in her eye and a perpetual laugh on her tongue.

Because she had to have felt it too. It wasn't possible that he'd been the only one of them to feel things change between them last night, to feel the connection go deeper, past sex and into the sticky realms of real intimacy.

Nope. He bloody well wasn't in this alone, he was sure of it. He'd seen her face as they moved together, watched her eyes darken, heard her breath catch in the back of her throat, felt her body tremble.

_…her lips met his, and though there was still a desperation in this kiss, there was something new, something almost affectionate about the way their mouths met now; about the way she sighed his name into his mouth as his hands ran the length of her torso, down the sides of her ribcage, across her stomach, back up over her breasts until her spine curved her body up towards him and he almost plunged straight back into her before he remembered himself, remembered that he wasn't rushing this time…_

* * *

_…words were being whispered into her ear, his lips just lightly brushing against the lobes and making her shiver, and his fingertips trailed gentle circles on her stomach, her thighs, her arms… green eyes met hazel as she stroked her fingers over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, tracing the curve of his lips…she reached for him blindly, hands tugging him closer because even the small distance between them was too much…_

Lily's eyes opened, despite her strict instructions to her body not to wake up, and she gazed up at the ceiling of James' room for a moment; the only light was the daylight creeping in around the edges of his curtains, but that was enough to make the room bright, the cream walls reflecting the rays of sunshine. Her body felt used and heavy and wonderful, and she was tangled up in sheets that smelled of James and the warm sun was glowing in on her, and she didn't want to wake up and deal with the reality of today, not when she could lie here and remember the memories of last night.

She didn't know what she'd been thinking, and that was so incredibly discomfiting to her; she _always _knew what she was doing, she was always in control. But last night she hadn't been, she'd relinquished her self-control, had allowed herself to be swept along, and it had been scary and wonderful and now she was completely lost, unable to understand what was happening.

She rolled onto her side and suddenly realised that she was alone; James wasn't here. Not that he necessarily ought to be - there was no reason he had to lie in bed in his own flat and wait for her to wake up - but she had thought, somewhere in her subconscious mind that he would still be next to her when she woke up.

Still, maybe it was better that he wasn't, because she didn't know what she'd say to him if he was. What the hell did you say to somehow you barely knew, who nonetheless had seen every inch of you? From several angles no less. She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands while she delivered a mental lecture on the virtues inherent in Gryffindors, with particular focus on their bravery and willingness to face up to unpredictable situations.

Pep talk delivered, if not wholly believed, she slid out of bed ignoring the aches in various parts of her body. She scanned the room quickly for her clothes, failed to locate any of them, remembered that most of them had been removed before they'd even got through the bedroom door, then gave up and simply grabbed the first thing that would cover her, a Quidditch shirt of James' that was lying on the chair in the corner of the room. She needed to talk to him.

She could do that. She'd been amazed last night at how easy it was, how simple he made it to just _talk_ to him, about anything and everything. Things that really weren't funny had_ become_ funny when he'd said them, things that were sad and miserable had become less so when discussed with him.

Oh Merlin. She didn't wholly know what she'd done, but she knew there was no going back from it. She couldn't go back to nodding at him at Order meetings and never seeing him otherwise. So she conducted a quick survey of herself in his little mirror, tugged on the Quidditch shirt until it was vaguely straight and wandered out of his room to see if she could find him, trying not to be overwhelmed by the memories that were tied up in his furniture, his bedroom walls.

_…she was pinned beneath him, but somehow that was reassuring rather than worrying, and the warmth of his hands on her skin only emphasised that, just as the gentleness of his mouth on hers did…pressed skin to skin with him, she could smell the scent of woods and clean soap rising off his body, and she ached to touch him but her hands were pinned, and that was oddly exhilarating in a way that some rational part of her brain was extremely critical of…_

**_(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)_**

Lily wandered along the hallway, following the scent of coffee and the sound of conspicuously quiet movements. She paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in James standing with his back to her, dressed in sweatpants and shirt and rumpling his hair idly as he sipped at a mug and seemingly scanned the pages of a newspaper while he stood at the counter. She paused for a moment, unsure about what to do, but she settled for clearing her throat to alert him to her presence.

James span around at the noise, noting the hesitancy with which she stood in the doorway, obviously waiting for some indication about how to conduct herself in his home. He really liked that about her; that underlying concern for other people's feelings that sometimes made her appear almost shy. 'Hey.'

'Hey.' She forced a nervous little smile, but even that one word felt as if it was strangling her as she forced it out; the light was glinting off his glasses, making it difficult for her to read any expression in them.

He smiled encouragingly. 'I was just wondering whether to bring one in for you, but I, uh, I didn't know if you'd want me to wake you.'

He held out a mug to her, and she stepped fully into the kitchen to take it from him, managing another smile if not actual eye contact. He looked her up and down, amusement – and the faintest hint of want - dancing in his eyes at the sight of her in his shirt.

'Cute.'

She blushed a little, and mentally cursed herself for it. 'Thanks. You don't, er, you don't mind do you?'

He grinned at her, that wide smile that he'd thrown her way in the pub last night that had had her sliding out of her seat and following him home. 'Of course not. It looks good on you.'

She cleared her throat and shifted a little uncomfortably. 'While we're on the topic of clothes, do you happen to know where mine are?'

James gestured to a neat pile on the seat of one of the kitchen chairs, and Lily smiled at the sight of the painstakingly folded garments, that sense of ease in his company slowly creeping back in; she was surprised to realise she'd missed it in these few awkward moments. 'Thanks.'

'There's just one thing, you know, related to that…' He picked up her knickers from the sideboard next to him and dangled them in front of her. She took them from him, her jaw dropping open when she observed just how tattered they were; they were only barely in one piece.

'Oh. _Oh._ You know, I don't even remember that happening.'

He smirked at her. 'Well, you were a little preoccupied at the time. I picked them up in the hallway this morning.'

Lily turned the fabric over and over in her hands, feeling the corners of her lips turning up at the sight of them and the tension left her body as she allowed herself to relax again, soothed by the natural warmth of his presence and the memories of his hands and mouth. 'I_ liked_ these Potter. What did my underwear ever do to you?'

His lips twitched again. 'Got in my way.'

'Hmm. Well, you did a real number on them.' She dropped them on the table and gave him a mock glower.

'Well, if you want to talk about who inflicted the most damage, you haven't seen my back.' He turned and pulled the back of his shirt up, revealing long scratches down his back and over his shoulders, scratches that had obviously come from her nails.

She fought the urge to blush again as she responded. 'You should see the teeth marks on my arse.'

He didn't laugh. Instead his eyes darkened in a way she'd come to recognise, and he put his mug down deliberately and began to walk towards her, though her suddenly rather incoherent mind registered that it was more of a _stalk_ than anything else.

He reached her in two strides and plucked the mug from her hands, tossing it into the sink and ignoring the smashing sound as his hands rose to grip her face and pull it to his. He nipped at her lip with his teeth, ran his hands down her neck and over her arms, felt her melt against him, her body moulding to the lines of his. He walked her backwards until the back of her legs bumped up against the table, and then he simply wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up onto it, pushing her down onto her back as he followed her up and lowered himself between her thighs, ignoring the clatter of things sliding from the table onto the floor.

Something clicked for both of them then, some strange feeling of _rightness_, that whatever else either of them did with their lives, nothing else would ever be as important as what they did with each other.

Lily's hands dived directly for the hem of James' shirt, pulling it up and over his head, taking his glasses with it, and flinging both items somewhere behind him to join the other clutter that had been thrown onto the floor, as his hands sank beneath the Quidditch jersey to slide over her smooth skin, skin that he'd learnt by heart in the last twelve hours. His hands traced her sides, sliding over hips and ribcage and dragging the material of the shirt with them, until it was pulled over her head and her naked back was suddenly flush to the cool wood of his kitchen table.

He pressed his chest to hers, swallowing her gasp as she reacted to the heat of his flesh pressing against her bare breasts; his tongue dipped gently into her mouth, touching hers and coaxing a response. Her hands tangled themselves into his hair, then slid down his back, her fingertips gently tracing the scratches that she'd scored into his skin last night, before they slipped under the waistband of his slacks and pulled him tighter against her.

It was his turn to moan, and hers to grin as she pressed her mouth more fervently against his, then she hoisted her legs up and used her feet to slide his sweatpants down over his hips, and he helped her by kicking them off the rest of the way until they landed on the floor with everything else they deemed currently unimportant.

They pressed against each other, naked flesh against more naked flesh, their hands moving desperately over each other's exposed skin as they fought to get a little closer, Lily's legs rising again to wrap around his waist and his mouth leaving hers to run over her breasts while she tilted her head back and groaned out loud at the contact. Her hands moved back into his hair, holding him against her as he lavished hot, heady, open-mouthed kisses over the tender flesh of her breasts, teeth gently pinching occasionally and wringing gasps of shock and pleasure from her, and when she felt his hands slide down to steady her hips she lifted them to meet his as he slid into her in one smooth stroke.

They both gasped then, and James lifted his head from Lily's chest to look at her, feeling a strange constriction in his heart when his eyes met hers as he was buried inside her; there was something indefinable in those green eyes, some swirling emotion that he couldn't quite pinpoint but it hit his heart like a hammer blow.

He looped his arms around her and pulled her flush to him, positioning her hips in line with his, his mouth covering hers as her arms lifted and came around his shoulders, holding him tightly against her as if she was afraid he might disappear. She gripped him even tighter as he moved gently inside her at first, his hands holding her firmly but carefully, like some fragile piece of glass that he was afraid of shattering. They moved together easily, their hips locked in a dance that had been learned and remembered in the space of a single night, and would probably never be forgotten now.

Lily's hands slid down over his back, back up to his shoulders, down his arms and then up to his face, her fingers cool on his flushed skin as she rested a hand on his cheek and he turned his face into it to kiss the palm. His hands left her hips, freeing her to rock against him, desperate for more friction, more feeling, more of _him_, and they moved up over the sides of her ribcage, tracing the outlines of her curves until they could sink into her hair and hold her face between his hands, his eyes locking onto hers and demanding that she stare straight back at him as he thrust in and out of her smoothly and evenly, and she watched the hazel almost disappearing into black as his pupils dilated further and further with every stroke.

They were moving much more desperately now, feeling the coiled tension between them rising and peaking and knowing that it had to break soon, and that when it did they would both be shattered into thousands of pieces that only the other could put back together, because really, who could be expected to walk away from something like this without leaving a piece of themselves behind with the other person.

Lily's legs were wrapped around his waist, and her skin was on fire everywhere she was touching him, which wasn't _enough _places as far as she was concerned, so she fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his face down to hers, their naked chests brushing against each other as their tongues tangled and hips rocked, and Lily's heels dug into the backs of his thighs and he freed a hand from her hair to brace himself against the table so that he could move faster, harder, push them further and _over._

And when they did fall together - a lazy crescendo, a quieter sort of explosion that melted its way through their bodies instead of burning - both of them had their eyes open and fixed on each other, and there was no hiding anymore, not for either of them.

**_(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)_**

Lily tugged her shirt on and pulled her hair loose from the collar, wriggling uncomfortable at the feeling of jeans with no knickers underneath. James had offered her a pair of his boxers, but she'd taken one look at him and burst out laughing; it wasn't even just that the height difference between them would make them look ridiculously long on her that was the problem, it was the fact that her waist was several inches smaller than his and there was almost no way they would stay up. She'd jokingly waved her knickers at him and told him that if he wanted to be helpful he could fix those for her, but he'd just laughed at the mangled garment and insisted that since they were clearly beyond repair she had no need for them, and ought to leave them here with him.

She thrown them in his face then, and he'd laughed and stuffed them in the pocket of the sweatpants he was pulling back on, muttering something about getting them framed. She'd excused herself to go to the bathroom and get dressed - Merlin only knew why it ought to seem stranger to be putting clothes _on _in front of him that taking them _off_ - and she'd be lying if she said she didn't appreciate the difference in her reflection this morning compared to yesterday.

_Today's_ Lily looked awake and cheerful, with colour in her cheeks and a glint in her eye; yesterday's Lily had been drained, mentally and physically, with paler than normal skin and tired eyes. James Potter, of all people, had made the difference there. Not just the sex – though she wasn't going to deny that had helped – but his company, his outlook, his bizarre sense of humour and easy chatter had made her feel optimistic about things again.

She shook her head at her reflection, amused at how her inner monologue made her sound like an infatuated schoolgirl, and turned to leave the bathroom, swinging the door shut behind her.

'I'm going to go home and shower, get some clean clothes, see if I can find some indestructible knickers, you know, _everyday _stuff.' She called out, unsure as to which room he was in but knowing he'd be able to hear her no matter where he was. 'I'll see you at the meeting in a couple of hours?'

'You will.' James stepped out of his bedroom, idly polishing his glasses on the hem of his t shirt. 'Of course we could always go to the Order meeting together, then you wouldn't have to wonder.'

Lily rolled her eyes at him. 'Oh yeah, and the questions we'd get would be wonderful to answer wouldn't they? What are we supposed to say? "Well actually, we met up in the pub last night, completely coincidentally, then we decided to spend the night at James' flat, shagging on every available surface"? That is not a situation I relish James.'

He took a few steps towards her, that grin that she'd become all too familiar with spreading across his face. 'What are you up to?' She asked suspiciously, one hand held out in front of her warningly.

'Well, that statement just isn't true, because there are plenty more surfaces available to us. There's the kitchen counter, the rug in the lounge, we haven't even gotten _near_ the bathroom and there's all _sorts_ of possibilities in there…'

Lily laughed as his arms came around her and he lowered his forehead to hers. 'No, no, no. If you get my clothes off again, we'll probably end up missing the meeting, and they might decide to some looking for us and _that_ would just be a recipe for embarrassment.'

James laughed, and Lily twirled a strand of his hair round and round her fingers as they stood together in the hallway. 'Meet you for a drink afterwards?' She asked, biting her bottom lip nervously and _hating_ that she was nervous. Asking him out for a drink should seem like nothing after the events of last night and this morning, but it _wasn't_ nothing, it was another layer of intimacy, it was adding another aspect to their relationship.

He pulled his forehead away and grinned down at her. 'How about dinner instead?'

She smiled, relieved that they were at least mostly thinking along the same lines. 'Only if you're paying.'

He laughed. 'Don't insult me by suggesting I'd make a lady pay on a date.'

'A date?' Lily asked coyly, unconsciously biting her bottom lip.

He looked at her closely, his eyes serious. 'A date Lily. An actual date.'

She released her lip from between her teeth and slid her hands out of his hair and down to his neck where they stopped, fingertips moving gently over his skin. 'Okay.'

**_(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)_**

**A/N: The first half of this was intended to mirror the first chapter; their thoughts, memories etc as they woke up instead of their thoughts as they fell asleep; then reality kicks in, hence the change in tone halfway through. I just thought as I was editing that it maybe wasn't clear that the reason we lose the dreamy tone halfway through is because they are properly awake and _experiencing, _rather than half-asleep and remembering.  
**

**Anyway, reviews are love, so feel free to tell me if you think that I completely missed the mark. I won't be offended.**


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